Limits
by redblanket
Summary: "The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits." - Albert Einstein. REID CENTRIC. CASE FIC.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all, so this is my very first fanfic story. Not sure if it's any good which is why there is a review button. This is a REID CENTRIC fanfic but it is also a CASE FIC. There are no relationships or romance.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Preston County, West Virginia

Easy prey.

That's what they were: easy and convenient. Walking the streets at night as if it were the safest thing to do – as if people like him didn't exist. Didn't they know that the night is the scariest part of the day?

"Hey little lady," he pulled up next to a scantily dressed girl, no older than nineteen, and leaned out the car window. "What's your rate?"

"Twenty bucks an hour," she flashed some cleavage and hiked up her skirt.

"Get in," he said with a wink and a smile. He knew how to play this game.

She circled round the front of the car and opened the passenger side door. She slid in and he breathed her in.

She smelled like stupidity.

Xxx

Behavioural Analysis Unit, F.B.I

Quantico, Virginia

Derek Morgan sat his desk in the bullpen, staring menacingly at the load of paperwork sitting in front of him. It just felt like the pile was getting higher and higher. He looked over to Reid at the desk opposite him and nearly growled. The kid was going through his stack with a smile on his face and an energy to his movements. It was almost as if he was enjoying himself.

"Reid," he called and when the younger agent did not acknowledge him, he called again more loudly. "Reid!"

Spencer Reid looked up, found Morgan staring at him and surveyed the untouched stack of paperwork on the older agent's desk.

"Shouldn't you be doing some work?" he asked it innocently enough but it only served to frustrate Morgan.

Morgan was about to respond but was halted by the arrival of Jennifer Jareau.

"Got a case boys. Conference room in five," she barely stopped a minute before stalking off again.

Morgan felt his mood lighten considerably. Nothing like a case to rescue him from all the paperwork.

Reid stood, grabbing the crutches that were leaning against his desk for support.

"I was nearly finished," he muttered and Morgan smirked.

"Where's Prentiss?"

"I'm here, I'm here!" Emily Prentiss rushed in, coffee in hand and handbag strewn across one shoulder. "Sergio wasn't well," she explained, dropping the bag at her desk and sipping her coffee. "Do we have a case?"

"Yep," Reid said as he adjusted himself. He was still getting used to the crutches.

"Thank God," Prentiss sighed. "I thought I'd have to do paperwork today."

Xxx

"A town in Maryland has asked for our assistance. Two men in Oakland have been found dead, their skulls bashed in with what the M.E thinks may have been a sledgehammer," JJ pressed a button on the remote and the screens behind her came to life with the driver's licence pictures of two young men. She pressed the button again and more pictures surfaced, these, however, more gruesome.

Reid studied them carefully from his position at the table, leaning forward and squinting at the finer details in the drivers licence pictures, looking for physical similarities between the two victims.

"What do we know about the victims?" David Rossi asked from his position across Reid.

"John Usher," JJ pointed at the first driver's licence photo. "Twenty-five. Drug addict and wannabe porn star. He was the first victim found three days ago in an alley." She paused and pointed at the second driver's licence. "This is Ben Garrett. Twenty-three. Works late nights at a local bar. Found outside a highschool yesterday morning. Both victims were unidentifiable due to the extensive damage done, but they both carried I.D cards."

"Was a sledgehammer used on both men?" Hotch asked, peering down at the file that JJ had passed out earlier.

"The M.E thinks so," JJ answered. "The only injuries on the bodies seem to be on the head," JJ used the remote to zoom in on two of the crime scene photos. "The UnSub has completely pulverised the skull but there are no other lacerations or injuries to any other parts of the bodies."

Reid squinted at the crime scene photos. "Looks like a blitz attack," he murmured.

"What's that gooey stuff around the head?" Prentiss asked, pointing.

Reid swallowed. "That's the brain."

There was a slight pause as everyone registered this.

JJ nodded. "The brain was completely destroyed, in both men. He smashed their heads in and looks to have continued smashing until the brains were completely crushed."

She paused again before pushing another button on the remote. The screen was wiped clean and another photo was brought up.

"This is Rachel Sanders," JJ grimaced. "Runaway and prostitute. Sixteen. Same M.O, found this morning in Preston County, West Virginia."

"He crossed state lines." Morgan stated. "That's only about a half an hour drive from Oakland."

"It's now in federal jurisdiction," Hotch said, standing up. "Wheels up in thirty."

Everyone started to stand, Reid once more grabbing his crutches.

"Reid," Hotch called.

Reid sighed. "Garcia?"

Hotch nodded. "Garcia."

"Great," Reid muttered. Another case to solve from inside Garcia's mildly amusing but slightly eccentric computer lab.

Reid heard snickering behind him and then felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Look on the bright side," Morgan said. "Now you can finish your paperwork."

Xxx

**A/N: OK tell me what you think. If there's not much interest I won't continue it. I figure I'll get more inspired the more reviews I get.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to those that reviewed and for those who favoured and followed! I must warn you, I've done my best with grammar but I attended a state school so I'm using that as my excuse if you find anything ungrammarly like (notice what I did there? Lol). I should also say that I'm not American so I'm solely relying on Google Maps and Wikipedia to supply me with the geographical info. **

xxx

"Who are you texting?" Garcia tried to look over Reid's shoulder, but he scooted his wheeled chair away from her. "Does our young Dr. Reid have a _girlfriend_?"

Reid ignored her and finished his text message, pushing the send button before Garcia had a chance to scoot after him on her own wheeled chair. He put the phone in his pocket and used his one good leg to wheel himself back over to Garcia and the computers.

"So spill," Garcia prodded. "Who is she?"

Reid looked baffled. "What?" Realisation dawned. "Oh no, just an old friend."

Garcia chuckled. "Yeah, I bet she is." Her mischievous grin and the tone of her voice made Reid uncomfortable and he shifted slightly, feeling his neck burn.

"Haven't we connected yet?" he asked in a feeble attempt to detract from his awkwardness.

"Calm your farm," Garcia sighed. "I'm connecting now."

Reid waited patiently as Garcia ran her fingers fluidly along the keyboard. A second later, the rest of the team appeared on the computer screen, huddled together. JJ appeared for a second behind Morgan before walking off screen.

"Hello my pretties," Garcia greeted. Reid gave an awkward wave from his position beside her.

"We don't have much time," Hotch said quickly. "This is a short flight. What do we know?"

"I just pulled up the autopsy reports on the victims," Garcia said, suddenly in professional mode. She used her second screen to bring up the autopsy reports she had mentioned. "Blood was clean – no drugs or alcohol in their systems. No signs of sexual assault either. There were signs that Rachel had sex shortly before her death but it seems to have been consensual." Garcia paused and took in a breath. "The death blow was straight to the back of the head on all victims. Ben and Rachel were killed with the first blow. It took two blows to kill John."

"So Reid was right," Morgan said. "It was a blitz attack."

"Yeah, that's not all," Garcia continued. "And this gets super icky. The UnSub completely demolished the entire head. Blood, brain, bone – all mushed together like some UnSub stew."

"Well I won't get that image out of my head," Reid heard JJ mutter from somewhere off screen.

"Have you found anything else about the victims?" Rossi asked.

"I'm doing back-checking now, sir," Garcia responded promptly. "But there doesn't seem to be any connections between them. John and Ben lived in Oakland, a town of just under two thousand, but they went to different schools, had different friends, and lived in opposite sides of town. Rachel was from across the border."

"And there doesn't seem to be any physical similarities," Hotch pointed out. "Usher was black, muscular and tall. Garrett was white, blonde hair, overweight and average height. Rachel was white, black hair, slim and average height."

"Thanks Baby Girl," Morgan said.

"Garcia out," Garcia went to press a button on the keyboard but Reid stopped her.

"Garcia not out," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand back aware that the others were watching the exchange.

Garcia pulled her hand away indignantly. "How am I meant to do work if you've got the screen?"

"You have like ten computers in here," Reid gesticulated to the said computers surrounding them. "Why don't you use that one?" he pointed to the one at the furthest point away from the computer they were currently using.

"Because that's not what that computer is used for!" Garcia huffed as if this was the most blatantly obvious thing.

"But it still does the job, yes?"

"Garcia..." Hotch's commanding voice interrupted whatever response Garcia had.

Garcia glared furiously at Reid for a second before pushing herself away from the table and gliding over to the computer Reid had pointed at, muttering furiously. Reid caught 'intruding', 'workspace' and something about ripping the pages out of a science book before he returned his attention back to the rest of the team.

"You're in the dog house now Reid," Prentiss laughed.

"Focus please," Hotch cut in, his voice stern.

"If it was a blitz attack, he's probably not physically imposing," Prentiss quickly stated.

"Not necessarily," Reid jumped in. "If he used a sledgehammer on his victims, chances are his upper body and core strength are impressive. The extensive damage done to the skull and brain suggest that this UnSub used the sledgehammer more than just twice. To do the most damage he'd need to get a high swing going." Reid raised his hands above his head in an attempt to demonstrate. "Most likely he raised the sledgehammer above his head and swung downwards." He let his arms fall downwards in a _whoosh-_ingmotion. "We'd need to get the model of the sledgehammer to determine the weight of it, but even if it was a relatively small one, you would need a lot of stamina to continually swing a sledgehammer."

"Get Garcia onto finding the make and model," Hotch said.

Reid turned in his chair. "Garcia –"

"I heard," she snapped, clearly still affronted by Reid's takeover.

"So then why the blitz?" JJ asked.

Reid turned back around. "Maybe he didn't want to look them in the eyes?"

"I'm more concerned with the way he kills them," Rossi said. "It's clearly overkill but why is he focusing on the head?"

"The heads mean something to him," Hotch stated.

"Maybe it's the faces he's attacking," JJ mused. "Might explain the blitz attack: he sees something in the faces that disturbs him, so he takes the victims from behind."

"Whatever the reason, we don't have much time," Morgan pointed out. "John and Ben were found two days apart but Rachel was found only a day after Ben."

Hotch looked at his watch. "We land in ten minutes. Morgan and Prentiss," he looked up at the two agents. "I want you to go to Oakland and update the sheriff's station on the new victim. Go to the two crime scenes – see what you can find." Prentiss and Morgan each nodded and Hotch continued. "Reid," he turned to face the screen again. "Work on victimology with Garcia and start on a geographical profile. The rest of us will stay in Preston County. The crime scene there will be the freshest."

Reid nodded, confident in his ability to complete the given task. He switched the connection between himself and the team off and relinquished his hold on Garcia's prized computer. Predictably, the technician's mood lightened considerably.

Xxx

The highschool was situated in the northern part of Oakland and on the main street connecting the town to the state highway. It was closed for the rest of the week due to the ongoing police investigation, but it wouldn't have mattered either way – the crime scene was more than a day old and the forensics team had come and gone through it, eliminating any hope of keeping it untainted for the BAU.

"This is where the body was found," Sheriff Tate indicated to a point on the concrete just outside the front school gates. Tate was a nice enough man, but he was visibly dismayed when Morgan and Prentiss had informed them that main body of their team would be setting up in West Virginia.

Morgan consulted with the crime scene photos in his hands to corroborate Tate's statement. In each photo, Ben Garrett laid face first on the concrete, his skull completely demolished. Blood, brain and bone mangled in with chunks of hair. Morgan studied a close-up image of the head. The immediate area surrounding the head in this photo gave Morgan pause.

"Prentiss," he called. "Take a look at this." Prentiss moved closer to him and Morgan pointed to the concrete surrounding the fragmented head. "Does something look odd to you?"

Prentiss moved her face closer to the photo, squinting and frowning in concentration.

"There's no blood splatter," she said, looking quizzically up at her colleague.

"What are you talking about?" Tate asked as he watched the two agents flick through the various images.

Morgan showed Tate the photos. "Look at the concrete around his head," Morgan pointed to the concrete within a metre radius of the victim's head. "There's blood pooling out of the skull, but there's no splatter."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that this wasn't where the UnSub killed Ben Garrett," Prentiss explained. "This is where the UnSub _dumped _Ben Garrett."

"You mean to say that he did all this," Tate waved at the crime scene photos, "somewhere else and then dumped the body here?"

"It would be impossible to transfer the head in this state without the proper equipment," Morgan said. "Most likely he killed Ben with the first blow, transferred him here and _then _did all this."

"How could you possibly know that?" Tate demanded.

"Look here," Prentiss flicked through the stack of photos before she came to a wider shot of the crime scene. "See here, how there's no blood splatter within the immediate area of the victim's head?" She paused and Tate nodded. "Well, look further out. There's blood splatter on the gate and on the gutter lining the road," she pointed to the areas she had mentioned. "That's with force. The harder the blow, the further the blood travels away from the body."

"What's traffic like here?" Morgan had turned away from Prentiss' explanation and looked out onto the road. For a small town, there was a considerable bit of traffic going through.

"Pretty busy," the Sheriff turned away from Prentiss, looking disgusted. "This is the main road through town. It's one of the major roads that connects Maryland and West Virginia."

"And there were no witnesses?" Prentiss waited for Tate to shake his head before continuing. "How is that possible?"

Morgan turned back around and walked closer the school gate, peering inside into the school grounds.

"He smashed Ben once over the head with a sledgehammer at an unknown location," Morgan muttered under his breath, deep in thought. "Transferred him here and continued to smash his head in plain view of the main road."

"Why would he risk getting caught?" Tate asked, clearly shocked by the conclusions the agents were coming up with in their very short time at the crime scene.

"Because this place means something," Prentiss supplied.

Morgan nodded and turned away from the school, glaring ominously at the sheriff.

"Take us to the other crime scene."

Xxx

**A/N: So it is going a little slow, but that is because it is a casefic and I'm trying to build a bit of a mystery. It will pick up soon. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel Sanders lay in front of them on the autopsy table; a white sheet covered her body. Judging by the way the sheet rose and fell in relation to different body parts, Hotch and Rossi were willing to bet that the head was missing. When the coroner pulled back the sheet, their suspicions were realised.

The body of Rachel Sanders was in pristine condition. Below the neck she bore no marks, no scars, no injuries of any kind. Above the neck, however, there was little to inspect.

"The brain was pulverised to pieces but your guy couldn't sever the brain stem," he pointed to a piece of tissue that extended from inside the neck and hung limply on the table.

"Where's the rest of the head?" Hotch asked.

"It's over here," the coroner moved over to the table beside the body where a large plastic container sat. He pulled open the lid and motioned for the agents to come closer. "It was impossible to keep the head and the body connected."

"It's completely fragmented," Rossi noted, wrinkling his nose as he took in the bone, brain and hair all mixed together. Suddenly Garcia's voice popped into his head: "...like some UnSub stew." He forced down a gag.

"Can you determine what was used?"

"Most definitely a sledgehammer," the coroner replied, picking up a clipboard and consulting his notes. "I would say no less than 20 pounds in weight."

"Was there any damage done to the body," Rossi asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer. "Internally?"

"No damage whatsoever," the coroner said. "We found traces of semen on her underpants but there is nothing to suggest sexual assault."

"The police found 20 dollars on her," Hotch said to Rossi. "He might have had sex with her before he killed her."

"What a gentleman," Rossi sneered.

Xxx

Sasha Jones was twenty-two and very pretty. JJ assumed that in Sasha's line of work, that could only be a good thing.

"Did you see which car Rachel got into?"

JJ knew to tread softly here. She had asked Sasha to come into the station to answer a few questions and whilst the girl was compliant, she remained hesitant and wary of JJ's motives. JJ could tell that Sasha was suspicious of the uniformed police officers, so she had taken her in the back room of the station where the only furniture inside was two chairs.

"I can't say for sure," Sasha replied, her voice thick with tears. She had a tissue in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Her nose dribbled and she went to wipe at it. "It was dark and I'm not good with cars and all that guy stuff."

"That's okay," JJ assured. "Could you make out the colour?"

"It was dark – maybe blue or black."

_Of course it was, _JJ thought bitterly. _It always _is.

"Was it a small car?" JJ prodded. "A van or a sudan?"

Sasha looked off to JJ's right for a second, her face scrunched up, trying to remember. "I don't know," she admitted. "It was like one of those small, crappy boxes you see college kids riding in."

JJ smiled and scribbled the description down in a small notepad she had perched on her leg.

"Had you seen that car before?" JJ tried. "Was it there often?"

"I've never seen it before."

"Do you know any of Rachel's regular customers?"

Sasha huffed. "Rachel didn't have any regular customers," she blew her nose and stared fiercely at JJ. The agent knew she had to wrap this up quickly if she wanted to keep Sasha on good terms for possible later contact. "She ran away from home only two months ago. She hasn't been out long enough to get regulars."

"Thanks a lot for your help, Sasha," JJ said kindly, removing a card from the inside of her jacket pocket. "If you remember anything else, please call me."

Xxx

"You're on speaker Garcia," Prentiss said, holding her cell phone between herself and Morgan as Morgan drove closely behind the police car escorting them to the next crime scene.

"Ok, so I've been doing some more digging-"

Reid's voice cut through, "_We've_."

"_We've _been doing some more digging," Garcia corrected, "and turns out our first victim, John Usher, is quite the little criminal."

"He has priors for lewd and disorderly behaviour, selling drugs to minors and exposing himself to minors," Reid supplied. "He's also spent a few nights in lockup for public drunkenness."

"Charming," Prentiss scoffed.

"The third victim, Rachel Sanders, was a runaway," Garcia continued. "Which I wouldn't have known if JJ had not called."

"Why not?" Morgan asked in teasing tones. "You losing your magic touch, sexy mama?"

Garcia chuckled. "Oh baby," she purred seductively. "You'll _know _when I lose my touch."

Reid cleared his throat. "There was no missing person's report filed for a Rachel Sanders," he explained quickly. "She's originally from Charles Town where she lived with her mother and uncle. A year ago her teacher filed a report with the local police. She suspected abuse, but nothing ever came out of it."

Morgan tapped the steering wheel in thought. "So we have a troubled man and a runaway – two high risk victims. What did you find on Ben Garrett?"

"So you know when you've nearly finished a jigsaw puzzle and you only have one piece left? And then you go to put that piece in the puzzle but it doesn't fit? And then you realise that somewhere in the one thousand piece puzzle, you've forced a piece into a spot where it doesn't belong and you have to rethink your whole puzzle..."

"Garcia..." Prentiss prodded, all too aware that one of Garcia's analogies could take up a good part of an hour.

"Well, Ben Garrett is that annoying last piece. He goes somewhere but you just can't see it," Garcia breathed in deeply. "This kid was outstanding. College graduate, straight A's. Graduated top of the class, volunteered at the homeless shelter, never even got a speeding fine."

"It looked like he couldn't find a job in his field though," Reid continued. "So he's been taking an online computer course in education. He works nights at the bar to keep up with rent but that's about as risky as he gets."

There was a pause on both sides of the phone as everyone digested this new information.

"It doesn't make any sense guys," Reid broke the silence. "The UnSub is all over the place. He takes a high-risk victim and then builds the confidence to hunt more difficult prey. You'd think he's escalating but then he takes Rachel."

"Maybe it's not _who _he kills, but _when _he kills," Prentiss theorised.

"So we're looking for a spree killer?" Garcia queried.

"We'll know by tomorrow morning," Morgan said. "He has escalated his killing time."

"What did you guys find at the crime scenes?" Reid asked.

"We're on our way to where Usher was found," Morgan said. "But it looks like Garrett was only dumped in front of the school, not killed there."

"The damage done to Garrett's head would make it impossible to transport the body intact from one location to the other," Reid speculated. "That would mean the UnSub bashed in the skull at the dumpsite."

"That's what we thought," Prentiss confirmed.

"There's obvious overkill in the victim," Reid continued. "Overkill equals rage. But the UnSub was able to control himself long enough to transport the body."

"What does that mean?" Garcia asked.

"It means that this guy has a message," Morgan replied. "That kind of rage is impulsive and not easily contained. The kill itself is not so important as what he does to the heads."

"But it also explains why the bodies were untouched," Reid said. "It's all part of the message. We just have to figure out what that message is."

"There has to be a connection with the victims," Morgan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as the police car escorting them indicated to park. "Garcia, dig deeper."

"I'll try, sweet-cheeks," Garcia promised.

"Reid, call Hotch and update him," Morgan further instructed.

"Yeah, but, guys, we have another problem," Reid warned. "The UnSub's crossed the border once already. Who's to say he won't do it again?"

"We've alerted the surrounding counties and the bordering states," Prentiss assured. "We've given the M.O. If he strikes again, we'll know about it."

Xxx

**A/N: Thanks so much to Annber03 (thanks for the offer, I might take you up on it!) and tannerose5 for the reviews! **

**Feedback is always welcome :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews to those that reviewed this story (the encouragement I'm getting keeps me going) and for the one-shot I also wrote. **

It was nearing midnight when Hotch received a call from Morgan. Together with Rossi and JJ, he had spent the rest of the day visiting the crime scene, conducting phone interviews, and coalescing with Reid and Garcia to complete background checks. Now, as Rossi and JJ updated the lead detective on their theories and findings, Hotch had excused himself to take the call.

Rossi had just finished updating Detective Simmons on the case when Hotch walked in, steely faced and phone in hand.

"Everything okay?" Rossi asked.

"Detective, could you give me a list of the buildings and their occupants within a kilometre radius of where Rachel Sanders was found?" Hotch asked, ignoring Rossi's question.

"Sure thing," Simmons nodded and excused himself.

"What's up Hotch?" JJ asked.

"Usher's body was found underneath the window of a local tutoring company in Oakland," Hotch informed. "The alley where he was found runs between two buildings that sublet their offices to companies. According to Morgan, it looks as if Usher was killed beside a dumpster and dragged a few feet towards the window."

"So we've got a school and now a tutoring company," Rossi mused. "It could be a coincidence..."

"Or he's making a statement about education," JJ theorised. "He's staging the bodies – that can't be a coincidence."

"That would explain why he's only attacking the heads. The brain is his target," Rossi conceded, watching as Hotch made his way across the room and began to scrutinise the crime scene photos that had been pinned to the whiteboard there. "What do you see?" he directed the question at Hotch.

"I'm not convinced this is the first time this UnSub has killed," he confided, turning back to face his colleagues.

"Why do you say that?" Rossi queried.

"The M.O is too particular in all victims," Hotch explained and JJ and Rossi joined him at the board. "If Usher was his first kill, he would have been sloppy, maybe even hesitant. But there's not even a scratch on his body – he knows what he's doing."

"And there's no sign of experimentation," Rossi caught on quickly. "No perfecting his skills on the other two victims. Killers don't usually know their signature until after their first kill, but this guy already has his down pat."

Hotch pulled out his phone and dialled Garcia's number. "Whatever the link is between the victims, they're not the first."

Garcia's voice suddenly echoed around the room. "You've reached the mystical and wondrous lair of tech goddess Garcia, how may I be of service?"

"Garcia, I need you to look into unsolved murders in the past ten years," Hotch instructed quickly. "Look for victims whose heads have been destroyed but the bodies untouched."

"You think he's done this before Hotch?" Reid's voice cut in.

"It's likely," Hotch replied.

"Should I look only in Maryland and West Virginia?" Garcia asked and Hotch could already hear the pattering of her fingers as they raced across her keyboard.

"Search the whole east coast," Hotch said.

Garcia gave a grunt. "That's pretty wide, sir," she said. "Do you have anything else?"

"Look for murders with overkill on the head or specifically targeting the brain," Rossi suggested.

"The brain?" Reid asked, sounding puzzled.

"The first two victims were dumped outside places of education," JJ explained. "If he's dumping the bodies outside these places and then demolishing the brain, he could be sending some kind of message about educational institutes."

"Wait, that's it!" Reid sounded excited. "Usher and Rachel were both high risk victims: Usher was a wannabe porn star selling drugs on the side and Rachel was a runaway and prostitute. Garrett studied hard, but still couldn't find a job," he took a breath. "Maybe he's saying that the education system failed them. Maybe that's what links the victims."

"That would explain everything," JJ admitted.

"Except why he crosses state lines," Rossi countered.

"Good work Reid," Hotch praised. "Garcia, unsolved murders..."

"On it like Cersei on Jaime."

Hotch and Rossi exchanged quizzical looks as the phone went dead.

"It's a book," JJ explained, smirking and shaking her head.

Xxx

Garcia had immersed herself so deeply in her research that she was completely oblivious to the Thai Reid had placed next to her on the desk. It wasn't until Reid had very loudly and dramatically cleared his throat did she look up.

"What is this?" she exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Thai?" Reid replied uncertainly, taken aback by her reaction.

Garcia seemed to have regained her composure somewhat and smiled up at Reid. "Oh Reid, my beautiful, beautiful genius," her voice was overly sweet. "Thankyou, but if you _ever_ put food next to my babies again," she patted her computer screen, "I will have no choice but to create a Dr. Reid fanpage on Facebook."

Reid grimaced and snatched the food off the desk.

Garcia smirked. "You're lucky you're so darn cute Dr Reid," she said before snatching the Thai back out of Reid's hands.

Reid grabbed his own noodle box which he had set down near his crutches on an empty table nearby and retook his vacated chair.

"Have you found anything yet?" he asked, nodding his head towards the computer.

"Turns out the head is the preferred target for most killers," Garcia said, digging into her Thai. "So there's a lot of unsolved murders where the head has been bludgeoned in some way, but nothing that would point to our guy."

"Well Hotch is right," Reid said. "The UnSub has killed before and –"

There was a beeping noise coming from Reid's pocket. He slid his hand inside and pulled out his cell phone. Putting his Thai down on the computer desk in haste – much to Garcia's chagrin and hissing – he flipped his phone open and read the message.

"Didn't I _just_ tell you?" Garcia seethed.

Reid looked up and gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry Garcia, but I have to go," he said, his food forgotten.

"It's almost midnight!" Garcia replied. "Where do you have to be?"

Reid pocketed his phone, stood up, swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and adjusted his crutches. "It's important. I wouldn't leave if it wasn't," he assured.

A look of understanding dawned on Garcia's face and she gave a sly smile. "Oh okay," she said, a cheeky tone lining her voice. "Have fun," she winked. "But you better be here early tomorrow!"

"I'll be here at six sharp!" he promised, already heading for the door. "If the UnSub keeps to his timeline, we shouldn't find another body until morning. It's doubtful that he's accelerated again after this long."

"And what am I meant to tell Hotch if he asks?" she shouted after him.

"I went home," Reid shouted back, already out the door.

xxx

Morgan and Prentiss walked into the Preston County police station. It was now well past midnight and they were exhausted. They were directed by a uniformed detective to a room that had been set aside for the BAU and were greeted by Hotch, Rossi and JJ on their arrival.

"How was the drive?" Hotch asked when they walked in.

"Long," Prentiss said simply.

"It was only a half hour," Rossi chuckled softly.

"Yeah," Prentiss sighed. "Like I said, long."

Morgan shook his head and took a seat at the table beside JJ who appeared to be writing a media statement.

"So what's the game plan here?" he asked, his exhaustion showing. "We just wait for another body?"

"We have no choice," Rossi said.

"But we have enough to give the profile," Hotch informed.

"You didn't get a DNA match on the semen found on Rachel Sander's underwear?" Prentiss asked.

"Inconclusive," JJ said simply. "Whoever this guy is, he's smart."

"We've instructed the Preston County officers to patrol places with an emphasis on education," Hotch informed. "Hopefully we'll get lucky."

Xxx

**A/N: Ok so things seem to be wrapping up – the operative word there being 'seem'. This is only the start of the story and things will be less boring in the next two chapters hopefully. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

It was nearing one in the morning when Hotch decided to give the profile. He had sent Morgan and Prentiss to check in at a nearby motel whilst retaining Rossi and JJ.

"We're looking for a white male in his mid-twenties to early forties," Hotch addressed the small crowd of officers and detectives gathered before him, his confidence only threatened by the sheer exhaustion he felt. The number of officers that had turned up to hear the profile was significantly lower than Hotch would have liked, but he was aware that it was essential to have a large police presence on the streets tonight if they had any hope of catching their UnSub, so the small number was to be expected.

"He blitz attacks his victims," Rossi effortlessly took over. "A sledgehammer is his weapon of choice – he usually kills on first impact to the back of the head and then continues to demolish the head."

"We think his target is the brain," JJ cut in. "This UnSub is dumping his victims' bodies outside places of education. John Usher was found underneath the window of a tutoring company, Ben Garrett was found outside a school and from the list Detective Simmons compiled for us," she gave a brief and small smile to the detective, "we identified that the building across the road from the park Rachel Sanders was murdered in is an Adult Education Annex."

"Given the nature of the victims, the dump and kill locations and condition of the bodies, it is likely the UnSub is making a statement about the American education system," Hotch said. "The complete destruction of the brain indicates that he perhaps blames the education system for failing the victims academically."

"The overkill in the victims suggests that this UnSub has a lot of rage," JJ continued. "But because Ben Garrett's body was transported _after _the first blow to the head – the blow that killed him – and _before _the UnSub destroyed the brain, we can determine that he is in control of his emotions."

"This makes him very intelligent, methodical and mission-oriented," Rossi cleared his throat. "It also makes him dangerous. He won't stop until his mission is complete."

"And when will we know when that will be?" a blonde haired officer asked.

"There's no way to know," Hotch answered sternly. "Which is why we have to act quickly. He's already crossed state lines once, we don't want to lose him."

"Well then how will we know if he will even kill again?" the same officer queried.

"He will," Rossi said confidently. "He accelerated his time frame for a reason. There will be another body tomorrow morning."

"So we're looking for someone who's pissed off with the education system?" this time a black haired officer asked the question, his face holding a contemptuous look. "That could be any parent in town."

"We think this UnSub has no connection with the education system," JJ replied. "He doesn't work in it, he has no kids that attend school. It is unlikely that if he did have children, he would send them through the system. They are most likely home-schooled. We think this man was scorned by the system as a child and hasn't been able to move on."

Rossi quickly took over. "The nature of the troubled relationship between the UnSub and the education system can be hard to ascertain, but considering characteristics of the kills, it is most likely that the UnSub felt that he was underappreciated in school or was not allowed to reach his full potential for some reason."

"It is also unlikely that these three are his first victims," Hotch said. "We have our technical analyst going through ViCAP at the moment."

"Thankyou," Rossi said, indicating to the group of officers and detectives that they were finished giving the profile. He turned to his two colleagues. "I don't know how helpful that can be," he admitted quietly.

"It's a start," Hotch assured. "I need to ring Garcia and then we'll head to the motel."

Rossi and JJ nodded and went to grab their go-bags which they had stored in the conference room. Hotch pulled out his phone and quickly dialled Garcia.

When the call was answered, Hotch heard the end of a yawn and a quick clearing of the throat before, "Garcia."

"Garcia, have you found anything on ViCap?"

"Uh...uh," Hotch heard her voice deepen as she stifled another yawn. "Unsolved murders, right, no I haven't found anything yet, sir."

"Widen your search to the entire country," Hotch instructed. "In the morning," he added.

"Oh thankyou sir," Garcia gushed, her relief obvious.

"Put Reid on," Hotch said.

"He, um, he went home already," Hotch noted a rushed and frenzied hint in her voice.

"Tell him I want the geographical profile in the morning," Hotch repled.

"He ate Thai," Garcia blurted suddenly.

There was a pause.

"Garcia..."

"Right, tomorrow morning," Garcia rambled, sounding frazzled. "Geographical profile, got it."

Hotch ended the call, shook his head and remembered the promise he had made to himself to never question the oddities of his technical analyst.

Xxx

Garcia had gotten a total of three hours sleep that night, so when she trudged into her computer lab at six-thirty the next morning, she was armed with a steaming mug of coffee and a box of Tylenol. She took a generous sip of her coffee, placed her bags on the floor underneath her desk and sat in front of her computer. In mere minutes she had it up and running and searching through the data that it had collected.

She huffed in annoyance. Her search of ViCap had returned hundreds of unsolved murders from across the country and she knew it was impossible to sort through all of the results before her next conference with the team.

As if answering her unvoiced plea for help, her computer made a _ding_-ing noise, signalling that an email had just be sent to her. She opened it and smiled.

"Thankyou Chocolate Thunder," she muttered, reading the profile Morgan had just sent her and adding the extra parameters into her system.

Xxx

"Anything?" Hotch directed the question at Detective Simmons as he walked into the conference room where the team had gathered for the morning, going over the profile again.

"Nothing," he said. "I thought you guys said there'd be another body."

"It's still early," Morgan glanced down at his watch: it was seven o'clock. "It might be that the UnSub hasn't dumped the body yet."

"You said the UnSub is accelerating his killing time," Simmons objected. "If he was then we should have found another body already. The more time moves on, the less likely it is that we'll actually find a body, right?" He sounded hopeful.

"Detective, all we can do now is trust the profile," JJ said.

Simmons snorted. "Well the profile better be right then," he snarled, before walking out.

"He's right you know," Morgan addressed his teammates. "If we haven't found a body yet..." he left the rest unsaid.

As much as they hated to say it, they needed another body. Another body would give them more clues, more evidence. Without another body to examine, another crime scene to scrutinise, they weren't any closer in identifying the UnSub.

"None of the surrounding counties or states have reported any murders," Rossi said from his position at the table beside JJ. "We could be looking at an unsolved."

"Maybe he flew out," Prentiss suggested. "He could have flown out yesterday after he dumped Rachel Sanders' body, reached the west coast and still have enough time to kill and dump another victim."

"But the PD didn't turn up any cars matching the description given by Sasha Jones," JJ pointed out.

"He could have hidden it in a garage," Prentiss said.

"It's only ten past seven," Hotch said. "Morgan might be right: the UnSub might not have dumped the body yet," he turned to Morgan. "Call Garcia. Have her keep an eye out for any bodies turning up with our UnSub's M.O. If he did fly out, I want to know where."

Xxx

**A/N: Thanks all for the reviews! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch's frustration was rising, his patience waning. It was twenty past seven and no progress had been made. He had instructed JJ to hold out on the press conference until they had more information, but at that point, Hotch was starting to concede that there wasn't _going _to be any more information. If a body hadn't been found by now anywhere in Preston County, with the sun now out, morning joggers doing their rounds and a still heavy police presence on the streets, the likelihood that a body was going to be found was pretty slim. To Hotch, this could only mean that the UnSub had once again crossed state lines. Yet he had not received any frantic calls from West Virginia's neighbouring states. For the first time in a long time, Hotch was beginning to doubt the profile his team had formulated and was beginning to grow concerned that this case, like so many others, was growing cold.

"Hotch, you got to hear this." Morgan had called Garcia as Hotch had instructed, preferring to take the call outside the conference room. Now as he walked back in, his announcement had elicited hopeful looks on the faces of his teammates. "Garcia, you're on speaker." He put the phone down on the conference table so that everyone could hear.

"Have you found another body?" Hotch quickly asked, fully expecting Garcia to reply in the affirmative.

"No sir, but I ran the M.O and profile through ViCap," Garcia started. "And I found nothing. Zilch." She took in a breath. "But then I remembered what you said about this guy's obsession with schools and education systems and whatnot and I dug a little deeper."

"And what did you find?" Prentiss asked, hopeful.

"Nothing," Garcia dashed their hopes only to reignite them seconds later. "But then I read over the profile again and started thinking: this creep is fascinated with brains. He smashed up Rachel's and Ben's and John's right? But Reid said that's because he wanted to show the education system that they had failed. Which means this UnSub mightn't think very highly of his victims' intelligence, but what would he do to the brains of people he thought were intelligent or intelligent-er...is that a word?"

"Garcia," Hotch prodded. "What did you find?"

"Every year for the past twenty, a body has turned up – somewhere in the country –badly beaten and brain missing," Garcia rushed.

There was silence in the conference room for a minute before Rossi spoke up.

"But that's a completely different M.O," he said.

"Garcia," Hotch began. "Send me a list of the victims' details, their occupations and addresses, autopsy reports," he instructed.

"Way ahead of you," Garcia chimed proudly and the computer that was sitting on the conference room table _ding _-ed upon the arrival of Garcia's information loaded email.

"Most of the victims were pretty successful," Garcia provided as JJ and Prentiss scrolled through the list of victims and their details. "Lawyers, doctors, businessmen. But there are a couple of surprises."

"Three to be exact," Prentiss said. "A homeless man, a stay-at-home wife and mother, and an up-and-coming model."

"Look at this," JJ pointed at the screen, "the UnSub makes sure not to take a victim in a state bordering the one he's taken a victim from the year before."

"He's making sure to distance the kills by time and place," Morgan said. "He's making sure no one connects them."

"It's all about the brain," Prentiss reminded everyone. "Most of these victims are successful career oriented members of a high social class. But the homeless man, the mum and the model don't fit the victimology."

"Doesn't mean they're not intelligent," Rossi pointed out. "Could be that they chose different paths."

"Garcia, look at IQ scores," Hotch instructed. "See if any of them are members of MENSA, if they've formally been tested to determine IQ level."

"On it," Garcia said, and once again the team heard the patter of her fingers as they raced across the keyboard.

"What do the autopsy reports say?" Hotch queried, directing his question at Prentiss and JJ.

"There were ligature marks on all the victims," Prentiss said. "Looks like they were held for at least a day."

"They were badly beaten too," JJ read from the screen. "But just their bodies. All victims were missing the top of their skulls, but other than that the faces were left untouched."

"Overkill," Rossi muttered.

JJ nodded and then continued, "The later victims were drugged."

"What with?" Rossi asked.

"Modafinil," JJ answered.

"Garcia..."

"On that too," she breathed through the phone.

Rossi circled round behind Prentiss and JJ to read the reports over their backs. His brow was furrowed and he looked concerned.

"What is it Dave?" Hotch asked.

"This doesn't make any sense," Rossi admitted, looking up. "If this is the same UnSub, his M.O has completely changed. Look at this," he waved his hand at the computer screen. "This guy is careful. He's been doing this for twenty years and he hasn't been caught. He takes victims from different states, once a year – he's patient . He never takes victims from the neighbouring states of the state he took a victim from the previous year – he's paranoid. " He waved his hand again, but this time at the whiteboard holding up all the crime scene photos of the three most recent victims. "This guy is careful, but not careful enough to escape detection. He kills three victims in less than a week, crossing state lines and murdering in towns less than hour away from each other. The only things the two sets of murders have in common are the targeting of the brain and excessive rage and overkill."

"So what are you saying?" Hotch couldn't deny Rossi's logic, but without a new body and crime scene, this was the only lead they had left.

"I'm saying either these are two different UnSubs," Rossi clarified. "Or this is just one UnSub and he deliberately changed his M.O."

"Why would he do that?" JJ asked.

"Something changed," Morgan supplied. "A stressor."

"We profiled that this UnSub is mission oriented," Rossi said. "What if this is a part of his mission?"

"But now he's exposed himself," Prentiss countered. "That can't be a part of his mission."

"Maybe he never thought we'd make the connection between the two sets of murders," Hotch chimed in.

"He wanted us here," Rossi said. "That would explain why another body hasn't turned up yet. He wants to distract us."

"From what Rossi?" Morgan sounded annoyed, although if Hotch had to guess, he would say Morgan's annoyance was more at the confusing nature of the situation than at Rossi and his theories. "He could have gotten away with another twenty years and another twenty victims. His distraction only alerted us to the fact that he's been killing for so long and killing at all!"

"We're missing something," Hotch said simply.

"Guys," Garcia cut in, apparently unaware that she had interrupted a particularly startling revelation. "All the victims had IQ tests done. I've sent the results to Morgan's PDA." Everyone looked towards Morgan as he opened up the device. "Also, Jaje was right. Ten of the victims were drugged with Modafinil. It's usually taken for sleeping disorders like narcolepsy, but it has been known to enhance cognitive ability."

"He's trying to make them smarter?" Prentiss sounded confused and judging by the looks on her colleagues faces, they were too.

"I'm out," Garcia said. "Let me know if you need anything else." She hung up.

"Guys," Morgan sounded startled as he looked up from the PDA. "I've found the connection." His team looked at him expectantly and he continued. "The first victim had an IQ score of 166. The second victim had a score of 167. The third – 168. Every year he takes a victim, the IQ score goes up by one."

"So the last victim had an IQ of 186?" Prentiss asked no one in particular.

The team was quiet, processing this new information. And then quite suddenly and unexpectedly, JJ let out a mangled gasp.

"Hotch!" she stood up, face flushed and panicked. "Reid. His IQ is 187."

_"He wanted us here," _Rossi's voice floated through Hotch's head. _"He wants to distract us."_

"Oh my God," Prentiss was out of her seat, pulling out her phone and banging on the keypad.

Suddenly the room was panicked. The atmosphere heightened with anxiety. Morgan had taken out his phone too and JJ flew out of the room.

"Aaron!" Rossi was by his side. "Did you speak to him this morning?" he asked. "Did you get the geographical profile from him?"

Hotch didn't answer and instead pulled out his own phone. His first instinct was to dial Reid's number, but instead he rang Garcia, making sure to put her on speaker.

She picked up on the second ring just as Morgan and Prentiss both shouted that Reid had failed to answer their own calls.

"Mysterious and wonde-"

"Garcia, where's Reid?" Hotch didn't have time for pleasantries or politeness.

"He's not in yet," Garcia sounded nervous.

"What time did he say he was going to come in?" Hotch asked.

"Seven," she replied.

Hotch looked down at his watch – it was five to eight.

"Garcia, what did he say last night?" Hotch asked, all too aware that the entire team, besides JJ, was watching and listening intently.

"He...he went home..." she stuttered. "He ate...he ate Thai."

"Garcia," Hotch tried to keep his voice level, but a panic was rising within him. "I need to know right now why Reid left early last night." There was a slight pause and Hotch felt the panic get the better of him. "Garcia, now!"

"He got a message last night," Garcia squeaked, sounding scared and close to tears as she suddenly realised this was not just a friendly check-in call – something bigger, something scarier, was happening here. "He didn't tell me who it was from, but once he got it, he told me had to leave. He said it was important."

"Have you spoken to him since?" Hotch asked quickly.

"No," Garcia admitted. "I tried calling him this morning, but his phone is off."

"I need to know who he was messaging."

"Yeah, okay, right. I'm on that," there was now a determination in her voice. "Okay, I've got his phone records up," she announced. "Oh wow, he's been texting this one number a lot. It is the last number he received a text from last night."

"Who does the number belong to?"

There was a slight pause. "It's prepaid," she said.

"Can you trace it?"

"It's turned off."

"How often does Reid text the number?" Hotch asked.

"A lot," Garcia said. "In the past six months, it looks like hundreds of texts have been exchanged."

"Have they spoken at all?"

"It looks like Reid tried calling a couple of times, but it's just gone through voicemail."

"Patch us through," Hotch commanded.

"Sir?"

"Now Garcia."

There was another pause and then a dial tone echoed from Hotch's phone. The tone came to a stop and voicemail picked up.

"You've called Jason Gideon. Leave your name and number."

Hotch's blood ran cold.

Xxx

**A/N: I'm going to start naming and shaming reviewers (that sounds awful, but I mean it in a 'thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!' sort of way). So THANKYOU to Annber03, , Sniper (I hope this answered your question) and RU12 who sent me a PM. **

**As always, reviews are much appreciated.**


	7. Chapter 7

"You've called Jason Gideon. Leave your name and number."

_Beep._

There was silence. A long silence. And then...

"Your message has been recorded. To preview your message, press one. To delete it, press two. To send it, hang up."

The automated message came to an end and Hotch jumped into action.

"Garcia, end the call," he looked at the rest of his team, JJ having reappeared. "Get your things, we're leaving."

Xxx

A hot searing pain in his leg forced Reid awake. Eyes still shut, he made to reach for it. To his horror, he felt something wet and sticky. Retracting his hand quickly, he opened his eyes and, ignoring all else, tried to double in on himself to inspect it. He was prevented from doing so, however, by a stabbing pain on his side. It was only then that he fully appreciated the situation he was in.

Xxx

_Seven Hours Earlier_

_Reid pressed his foot on the accelerator, his anxiety mounting in his haste to reach his destination. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, counting down the miles in his head. _

_Reid was nervous. When he had received Gideon's last message in Garcia's office, asking for a meeting, he felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria. Once he had left Quantico, the ramifications of actually meeting with Gideon, finally, after seven months of texting, worried him and the elation he had felt was replaced by anxiety. _

_A part of Reid wanted to feel anger and rage, to yell at Gideon the moment he saw his old mentor, but the anger never surfaced. Another part wanted to forget the pain – let bygones be bygones – but the hurt he felt now felt as fresh as the day he walked out of that cabin, clutching onto a letter that was meant to serve as some sort of closure for him. He wanted to feel that happiness again, that sense of excitement he had felt when he had opened Gideon's text, but the endless worries running through his mind prevented even a spark of giddiness to surface. _

_He sped down a familiar road, his destination mere minutes away now. He took a deep breath and turned into a long drive way, trees on both sides meeting above to make an archway, his headlights the only source of light guiding him forward. As he drove further, the trees were left behind and an open grassy plain met him all around, a small cabin waiting for him at the end of a dirt road. Suddenly, he remembered the last time he had come here and he felt what he had felt that night: dread. Dread that he was about to walk into the scene of a suicide._

_Reid swallowed, a lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to keep the Thai he had eaten down. He parked his car at the side of the cabin, beside a dark blue Hyundai. Reid barely noticed it, too nervous to pay much attention to its beat-down appearance. He put both hands on the steering wheel, put his head down and took a deep breath. Finally, he opened the door and exited his car._

_His mind was blank as he neared the front door, filled instead with feelings of anxiety and nervousness that seemed to paralyse his senses. As he reached the front step, he noticed that the lights in the cabin were on. Gideon was really here. This was real. He knocked on the door and waited. _

_It seemed to Reid that time was moving at an agonisingly slow pace, but suddenly he could hear footsteps approaching from inside the cabin and a lock turning. The door opened._

_"Hello Spencer."_

_Reid stared down the barrel of a gun._

Xxx

JJ had the foresight to make preparations for an early departure from Preston County. Upon making the connection between Reid and the UnSub, she had left the conference room and phoned flight control, requesting immediate takeoff. So when Hotch had announced that they were heading back to Quantico, everyone was grateful to have learnt their media liaison could be just as apt at profiling as the rest of them at times.

Now JJ sat in the jet, trying so hard to concentrate on what her teammates were saying but caught up in her own thoughts.

"JJ," Emily whispered from her position beside JJ. "He'll be okay."

JJ shook herself out of her thoughts but did not reply. Swallowing, she forced herself back into professional mode and looked at the rest of the team.

"Are we sure it's not Gideon?" she asked, hoping her question had distracted the team from her lapse in concentration.

Hotch shook his head. "Look at the dates of the abductions," he pointed at the computer which was placed on the fold out table between the seats. "Lisa Attardo from Massachusetts was kidnapped and killed while we were in New Jersey on the poison case. Justin Carser from Illinois was taken while we were in Los Angeles. Gideon would have been in two places at once."

"Maybe he has a partner," Morgan said.

"Are we seriously considering Jason Gideon, BAU co-founder, to have committed murders dating back twenty years?" Rossi objected.

"It was his voicemail," Morgan nearly snapped.

"Which proves what?" Rossi asked. "According to Garcia, Reid never actually spoke to Gideon. Gideon never answered his calls – Reid only left voicemail messages. That voicemail of Gideon could be a recording of a recording."

"I'll tell Garcia to look into it," Prentiss fiddled with the computer, setting up a connection for Garcia.

"I'm willing to bet that the UnSub in Western Virginia and Maryland is the same UnSub that's been taking these people for the past twenty years," Rossi continued as if Prentiss had not spoken.

"Based on what Rossi?" Morgan asked and JJ could see his calm quickly dissolving.

"Based on the M.O," Rossi explained, his voice betraying no emotions but his eyes desperate. JJ could tell that the senior profiler was trying very hard to keep his emotions in check but much like herself, he was struggling with worries and concerns about their youngest member. "The target in both sets of kills was the brain and there was overkill in every victim."

"But the overkill for Garrett, Sanders and Usher _was _aimed at the brain," Morgan said. "These victims'," he waved his hand at the computer which now was dialling up a connection between itself and Garcia's computer, "brains weren't the target of the overkill, the bodies were."

"But that's the point," Rossi said. "His rage for Garrett, Sanders and Usher was at their brains – average levels of IQ, nothing special. He doesn't care who they are. He has no hatred for them as people, only contempt for their average intelligence." He took in a breath and continued. "But the victims who had their brains removed – the UnSub hates the person, but takes the brain. Their brains are special to him."

"So he's jealous?" JJ asked. "He's jealous of people with a high IQ? He respects their intelligence but thinks they're undeserving?"

"Right."

"And he thinks he's superior to people of average intelligence," Prentiss put in. "He's too good to be average, but not good enough to be genius."

"But he's been taking the brains of high IQ individuals for years," Morgan objected. "Why now, all of a sudden, is he targeting average IQ individuals?"

"Rossi was right," Hotch said. "It's a distraction. He wanted us to leave Reid. It wouldn't be the first time an UnSub has targeted us." Hotch pulled out a paper from his folder and putting it on the table for all to see. It was a copy of Reid's call history. "They've been communicating for months now. The UnSub would have known about Reid's leg: this was the perfect opportunity to strike," JJ could sense a fear in Hotch's tone, one she rarely ever heard.

"But this distraction has only alerted us to him," Prentiss pointed out, a note which they had all been aware of.

"It's a compulsion," Rossi said. "He _has _to target the brain."

"Please tell me you have something," Garcia's face popped up on screen and JJ could see tear stains on her cheeks and the remnants of mascara that looked like it had been hastily scrubbed at.

"We need you to analyse Gideon's voicemail," Prentiss said.

"I also want you to try and track down Gideon," Hotch said to the surprise of his team.

"Sir?" Garcia asked cautiously.

"Whether he was on a case while these murders happened or not, we still need to find him," Hotch explained. "He could be in danger too."

"On it," Garcia said.

"One more thing," Hotch said quickly. "See if there are any surviving family members of the first twenty victims living in Virginia," he instructed. "I want to get an idea of what the victims were doing in the weeks before their murder."

"Yes sir," Garcia promptly disconnected.

Hotch turned to his team, determination in his voice. "When we land, Prentiss and Rossi go to the hospital and speak to a brain surgeon. I want to know how the UnSub is taking the brains and the knowledge he'd need to do it. Morgan, keep calling Reid. We're working on the assumption that Reid is missing and has been targeted. We need more proof: get a warrant, search his apartment, and try to locate his car." Hotch breathed in, ignoring the looks of horror on his team's faces at that last instruction. "JJ and I will interview the nearest surviving families of the victims when Garcia gets back to us."

There was a brief silence as each team member silently contemplated their set tasks whilst fighting the urge to let worry consume them.

"If the timeline is right, we have until tonight to find Reid," Hotch said, his voice stern, his eyes stony. "Let's rework the profile."

Xxx

**A/N: Wow, you guys nearly doubled my reviews in just one chapter! Go you! So thanks to (in order from who reviewed first to last) tannerose5, Guest, Lenika08, Annber03, DebbieOz, Guest, Guest, Sniper, MCatry, Elohim Aelf and Elohim Aelf (like I promised twice because I missed you last chapter!). If you have any suggestions, comments on my grammar, wording or otherwise feel free to make them. If the characters are not in character, let me know. I wanted to also point out very quickly that this isn't going to be a kidnapped fic (I mean, Reid's obviously in trouble but the whole story doesn't centre on what the kidnapper does to him and the torture he goes through).**

**Thanks again for the reviews and very kind words!**


	8. Chapter 8

JJ sat in the living room of Agnes Burns, the mother of Nathan Burns, the UnSub's 2001 victim. Nathan had been a twenty-seven year old pre-med student from UCLA with an IQ of 179 when he was taken and murdered, his scull cut open and his brain removed. His only surviving family member was his mother. Agnes had been a fortunate find: no victim had ever been taken from Virginia – Nathan had lived and died in California – but Agnes had relocated after her son's death making her the most accessible family member of a victim.

Hotch sat beside JJ. They both waited silently and somewhat impatiently as Agnes boiled the kettle and poured them tea in the kitchen. When she returned, JJ accepted her tea with a 'thankyou' and took a small sip out of politeness.

"Why did you leave California?" Hotch asked Agnes as she took a seat opposite the two agents.

"I couldn't stay there," she said sadly. "Not after Nathan...I go back once a year – on his anniversary. I visit Detective Morgan. He was the lead investigator on Nathan's case. I check in to see how things are progressing, with the investigation." She paused. "But it's not. Progressing, that is. The police have no clue."

"Did they have any suspects at the time?" JJ asked kindly.

Agnes shook her head

"Can you tell us a little about Nathan?" Hotch asked.

"He was smart," Agnes beamed proudly. "Always the brightest in his class. He finished school a year earlier than other his age. In college he studied business, accounting, arts, literature, theology and take up medicine," she laughed softly. "So casual, he was, as if he had just decided to read a new book." Her smile faded. "He was always so proud of his smarts," her voice broke, but she quickly recovered. "It was his pride and joy. His brain was his most treasured possession. And they took it from him."

JJ couldn't help but think of Reid in that moment.

"Was Nathan dating anybody?" Hotch questioned.

Agnes shook her head. "Nathan wasn't very good with people," she admitted. "Sometimes I think it's my fault."

"I'm sure that's not true," JJ assured, shaking Reid from her thoughts.

"I was so focused on his intellectual development," Agnes explained, "making sure he had the best education, the best books, the best teachers. I was so focused on his brain that I ignored his heart. I neglected his emotional development."

JJ felt Hotch stiffen beside her.

"Did he have _any _friends?" JJ asked. "Any new people in his life or anyone from his past who suddenly contacted him before he went missing?"

"No, sorry."

"How about his behaviour?" Hotch jumped in, seeming to have recovered from whatever had alarmed him. "Was he different in the months before?"

"No," Agnes said. "He was spending more time on his laptop, but he had a lot of work to do."

"Do you still have the laptop?" Hotch asked.

"I still have all his things," Agnes said. "Would you like it? I haven't touched it at all since he..."

"That would be great," JJ said. "We'll give it back as soon as we're done."

"Anything that will help you find the animal that did this to my son," she paused and squinted suspiciously at them. "Why is the FBI suddenly interested anyway?"

"We think the man who did this to your son is connected to a string of murders dating back twenty years," JJ explained.

Agnes looked JJ straight in the eyes, firm and unblinking – determined.

"Bring him back home," she said. "Bring _it _back home."

Xxx

"Thankyou for seeing us on such short notice," Prentiss smiled at Dr. Carson.

It _had_ been short notice. Garcia had found Rossi and Prentiss only one brain surgeon willing to speak to them within the hour of their jet landing and Doctor Emilie Carson was it. He was a stocky man – short but tough. His greying hair was cropped neatly and Rossi was reminded of his military days. Garcia had told the Rossi and Prentiss that Carson had been a brain surgeon for close to twenty years – he was the best they had and they would take him.

"Happy to help," his smile was crooked, but not at all insincere.

"Did you get the files our analyst sent you?" Rossi asked watching the doctor carefully from across the desk.

"I did," Carson pulled open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a manila folder, placing it open on his desk between him and the agents. "What is it you'd like to know?"

"What tools were used to open the skull and extract the brain?" Prentiss asked. "And what kind of person would know how to do this?"

Carson reached forward and spread the files apart so that he could see each one. He picked out a crime scene photo of Margherita LaGuerta, a 58 year old entrepreneur. The photo was taken specifically of Margherita's head, the top, above her eyes, missing.

"Are there any pictures of the top of her head?"

Prentiss shook her head. "The top was missing on all the victims," she said.

Carson grimaced but looked closer at the photo. "Here's what I can tell you," he flipped the photo over so that Rossi and Prentiss now had a view. "You see here?" he ran his index finger along the cut where Margherita's skull had been removed from the rest of her head. "This is a very crude cut, very rough and very hazardous. There would be no way of cutting this woman's skull open and removing an intact brain. This cut was most likely made with a hand-held saw, judging by the jagged cuts and bone flakes."

"That doesn't make any sense," Prentiss said. "We profiled an UnSub that would want to preserve the brain."

"I think so too," Carson said. "These crime scene photos don't show as much detail as they probably should. The photographers are focusing on the top of the head rather than close-ups of the faces."

"That's because the faces were untouched," Rossi said.

"Yeah, it looks like that from this far away," Carson said. "And you'd only notice it if you were looking for it, but check this out," he put Margherita's photo flat on the desk and pointed to a place just below her right nostril. "The skin here is raw and chafed." He pulled out another crime scene photo of a different victims from the file, and then another, and then another. "These victims have it too," he said. "All under the right nostril. The skin is red and raw."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Carson looked disgusted but continued, "that the brains were removed from the nose – post mortem."

Rossi and Prentiss sat speechless for a second.

"I'm scared to ask," Rossi muttered.

Carson took that as his cue. "It's not a method used today," he said. "Not in the past couple thousand of years at least. The ancient Egyptians used the nose as a passage to remove the brain. They would use long hooks to go up the nose canal, perforating the cribriform plate of the ethmoid bone. They would then probably liquefy the brain enough for an easy exit but so that it is still intact. Anything remaining would be scooped out with a long spoon."

_Stew, _Rossi resisted a shiver.

"Can I ask what the official cause of death was?" Carson asked, sensitive to the horrors of the situation but wanting to gain further insight. "Both of what was done to the head was post-mortem and the physical damage done to the body, although severe, would not result in death."

"Our analyst is still gathering the details," Prentiss nearly choked, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation she faced. Compartmentalisation be damned.

"We think it might have been an injection to the heart," Rossi informed noticing a change in Prentiss's behaviour, but putting it on the backburner. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, considering the nature of these victims – they were all geniuses, yes?" Carson pulled out a file from the folder and flicked through it. Rossi recognised it as the victims' profiles. "I don't think this is a ritualistic or religious thing."

"We had come to that conclusion as well," Prentiss said.

"I hope you don't mind me suggesting..."

"Not at all, please continue," Rossi pushed.

"Well, seems to me that this man is Obsessive Compulsive and may in fact be a genius himself," Carson said. "There has been a new movement, in the past fifty years or so, to understand the brains of geniuses. I notice that the last ten victims had Modafinil in their systems. You know that this drug can enhance cognitive function, right?" both the agents nodded and he continued. "Well I'm wondering if this suspect is experimenting on his victims?"

"But there was no sign of that."

"There was no sign of physical experimentation," Carson corrected. "We don't have any of the brains to make sure for certain though. In any case, I think he has left the brain in pristine condition. I'm actually referring to experimenting based on the theory that, given the right tools, it is possible to alter the IQ of an individual."

xxx

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! I've been really sick and quite honestly couldn't be bothered doing anything. Hopefully you like this chapter enough to forgive me haha. Also, very quickly, the "medical" facts in this are probably not at all factual but for the sake of this fic, let's just believe they are. Thanks to all the reviewers: marcallie, People Person I'm Not, Annber03, Sniper, Sue1313 and tannerose5 (special thanks to you for getting me out of bed lol).**

**Let me know if you'd like to read more! (Oh, one more thing, should I up the rating on this?)**


	9. Chapter 9

Despite his Italian background, Rossi was not a superstitious man. But he was a religious man – having been brought up by a devout religious woman, he didn't know any other way. So as he sat at the conference table, leaving Prentiss to explain their findings at Dr Carson's office to the rest of the team – minus Morgan – he prayed. Because what else could he do? They had no leads, nothing substantial to tie anyone to the case. Just some dead kid's laptop and a crazy theory that he had pushed. And what if it was the wrong theory? What did that mean for him, the team? What did that mean for Reid?

Prentiss had stopped talking and Garcia was now saying that she had just discovered that all the victims had an injection of morphine, triple the recommended maximum dose, straight to the heart. They had found their cause of death.

"We're obviously looking for a genius," JJ said. "Not up to the level Reid is, but still – genius."

"He is a genius," Hotch conceded. "But you're right; he's not as smart as Reid. In fact, I doubt he's as smart as any of our victims."

"Garcia, who was the first victim?" Rossi asked, putting away his imagined rosary beads.

A few clacking and clicks and then, "Roger Sizemore," Garcia said. "IQ of 166."

"So we're looking for someone with an IQ of 165," Prentiss said.

"Find out as much as you can about Sizemore," Hotch instructed.

Garcia nodded but was distracted by a ding that echoed from her laptop. She pulled out a pair of headphones from her bag which had been dumped on the floor beside her chair and plugged them in, putting them on as she did.

"Guys," Morgan rushed into the conference room, his hands occupied by a sizeable laptop that looked like it had jumped out of a Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks film. "Reid's laptop. His email was open. Look at this."

He put the laptop in front of Hotch but further inside the table so that the rest of the team could easily see.

"Are those emails from...Gideon?" JJ asked slowly, her voice betraying the dread she felt.

"They've been communicating for months," Morgan said, his voice rising but Rossi shook his head.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he interjected.

"How can you ignore this?" Morgan demanded. "They're talking about old cases and things that only we would know. How do you explain that?"

"I don't think it's Gideon," Garcia said suddenly, removing the headphones from her head and looking grimly up at the team. "Gideon's voice message: it's not him. Well it is, but it isn't," she huffed and waved her hands in front of her as if trying to physically erase what she had just said. "I mean, it's him, but it's a recording of him."

"Like Rossi said," Prentiss murmured.

"How can you tell Garcia?" Hotch asked quickly.

"I stripped down the audio," she said. "It didn't take much before I got an echo. It's definitely a recording."

Morgan made to open his mouth in what Rossi was sure would be some sort of objection to this fact but Garcia continued, effectively cutting him off.

"There's more," her voice took on a much more grim tone – even more so than it had been since knowledge of Reid's disappearance. "I've looked for property under his name, bank accounts, phone plans – anything. Nothing came up. He's been hiding pretty well."

"He can't have just disappeared," JJ said.

"He has, but that hasn't stopped me before," Garcia said. "I found an offshore bank account under his name, but he's wiring the money to a credit card under the name of Gordon Simon Stewards. The card was used frequently until about seven months ago and then suddenly no action. None since actually."

"Seven months?" Rossi was suspicious. "Isn't that around the same time Reid started getting messages from the UnSub?"

"Yeah," Garcia affirmed.

"Garcia, where was the last place he used it?" Hotch asked, suddenly feeling very uneasy.

"A little town half an hour away," she replied, reading off her screen. "A coffee shop off the highway."

"Hotch, I'm on it," Morgan said quickly, his voice determined. "Garcia, send me the coordinates." Not waiting for a reply, he swiftly left the conference room. Rossi suspected he didn't want to give Hotch the opportunity to take the task away from him.

"I'll go with him," Rossi decided, taking Morgan's lead and rushing out.

Xxx

The coffee shop was more like a trucker's stop with a rundown cafe off to the side. It was nearing six o'clock in the evening and Morgan was worried that they might have closed for the day. Thankfully, however, it was open and bustling with surly truckers. Morgan and Rossi made their way to the counter where a line had formed. Morgan flashed his badge and, ignoring the curses and swears, pushed to the front of the line where he was met by a stocky middle-aged woman behind the counter. Rossi followed.

"Look here..." she noticed his badge and her voice turned from stern to soft. "What can I do for you, detective?"

"Agent," Morgan corrected. "We're looking for a customer you had seven months ago."

She laughed. "Seven months? Oh hell, darling, do you know how many customers I get a day? I can't even remember who I served an hour ago."

"Can you take a look at a picture please?" Morgan asked, pulling out his phone.

The woman shrugged.

Morgan flipped through his phone's picture gallery before landing on a photo of Gideon. He gave the phone to the woman who smiled instantly.

"Oh, dear me, it's Gordon," she said. "If there's one customer I'm not likely to forget, it's Gordon."

"Why's that?" Rossi asked, intrigued.

"He's just so lovely," she said. "Always gives me the biggest tips." Her face grew concerned. "Is he alright? He's not in trouble is he?"

"No, ma'am, we just need to ask him a few questions," Morgan said quickly. "Do you know where he is?"

She shook her head and handed the phone back to Morgan. "He comes into town twice a year for a couple of weeks."

"So he should be here now right?" Morgan asked. "Last time he came was seven months ago."

"If he was here, I'd know about it," the woman said. "He always comes in."

"Does he ever miss a visit?" Rossi asked.

"This would be the first."

"Where does he stay when he comes here?" Morgan prodded.

"He owns this little cabin about ten minutes off the highway," she said.

"Address?"

Xxx

"I didn't know you had a picture of Gideon in your phone," Rossi started.

"Don't profile me Rossi," Morgan grunted as he got behind the driver's wheel, ready to tear off to Gideon's cabin.

"You liked Jason," Rossi continued. "You weren't as close to him as Reid was, but you respected him. You felt betrayed when he left."

Morgan tore out of the truck stop as if the speed he drove would erase the words that had just left Rossi's mouth.

"That betrayal stung," Rossi ignored Morgan's obvious building rage and discomfort. "Doesn't mean he's the UnSub. You're letting your anger cloud your judgement."

Rossi could tell he had hit the right spot.

"No offense Rossi," Morgan's voice was tight and controlled but the rage was seeping through. "But you don't know what you're talking about."

They sat in silence for a minute. Rossi was content that he needn't say more: he had gotten through and after this visit with Gideon, Morgan could move on. So instead he said, "I've always wanted to see Gideon's cabin."

Morgan turned off the highway and drove down a street with large acres of farmland on either side.

"You haven't?" the younger agent asked, clearly surprised.

"That was always his getaway spot," Rossi replied. "He never told anyone where it was."

"Except Reid," Morgan said.

"And Hotch," Rossi peered out the window. "I think that's it." He pointed towards a small cabin clearly visible from the street. A short driveway lead to a carport that was unoccupied. Morgan drove into the driveway and put the car into park.

"You ready?" Rossi turned in his seat to face Morgan.

Morgan just looked at him and the turned and got out of the car. Rossi met him at the front door.

Morgan knocked. There was no answer.

"Gideon!" Morgan called through. "It's Morgan and Rossi! We need to talk to you about Reid."

Still no answer.

"Morgan," Rossi whispered and when Morgan looked over at him, confused as to why Rossi was looking down.

Morgan followed Rossi's gaze. At first, his confusion was intensified: he had no idea what he was meant to be seeing. They were losing the sun and the fading light was casting shadows all around them making it even harder to see. So Morgan bowed his head and then squatted. And that's when he saw them.

Maggots.

Morgan looked up at Rossi, horrified. He was sure his face mirrored the look Rossi wore and in an instant, he was up and kicking the door open.

The cabin was dark but that's not what Morgan noticed first. The stench that greeted them upon opening the door was close to unbearable. He knew that smell all too well and the panic in him nearly took over.

He clawed at the wall for a light switch. Finding it, the cabin brightened and Morgan saw it all.

Decomposing body. Smashed skull.

Xxx

**A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the late chapter. I have a lot of work to do in my non-fiction life and although all the reviewers are sooo kind, I feel like there is a loss in interest which makes me slightly unmotivated. I really struggled with this chapter and it probably shows. So apologies! My thanks to People Person I'm Not, neuroticmango, run and remember, Annber03, Sniper, lovecrimindsteam and Elohim Aelf.**

**I got a question asking if there will be more Reid. This is a Reid centred fic but at the moment there is a serious lack of Reid. I have a plan to fix that but if I tell you then I might as well not write the story LOL I also wanted to say thanks to everyone who gave me well wishes! Very lovely of all you guys xxx**

**Oh and maggots feed on dead flesh, fun fact.**

**Hope to read your feedback! xx**


	10. Chapter 10

When Rossi made the positive ID, Morgan's fist connected with the wall. When Rossi said he's been dead less than a week, Morgan felt the air leave the cabin. And when Rossi said he was going to call in CSI, Morgan left the cabin.

He reached the car, leant his forearms on its roof, interlocked his fingers and rested his head on his hands. He was losing it. And Derek Morgan never loses it.

"The locals are coming," Rossi's voice approached from behind Morgan and the dark agent spun around, trying to hide the despair, anger, sadness and guilt he felt.

"Did you call Hotch?" Rossi asked and when Morgan looked at him, he could see that just like Morgan, Rossi was fighting for control over his emotions.

Morgan shook his head, daring himself to open his mouth and reply verbally but, not trusting himself to adequately contain his emotions, he remained silent.

Rossi pulled out his phone just as sirens could be heard in the distance. He punched in the numbers and set it to speaker. He held it up in front of him so that the phone was now between himself and Morgan.

"Hotch," their unit chief answered.

"It's Rossi and Morgan," Rossi said quickly.

"I'll put you on speaker..."

"That's not a good idea Aaron," Rossi interjected.

There was a pause. "What did you find?"

"Jason's dead." Rossi's voice held no emotion, no sign that he was affected by the murder of his old colleague. "His skull was smashed – like the others."

"Are you sure it's him?" Hotch's voice matched Rossi's in lack of emotion. Morgan noticed that he now spoke in a whisper – the others must be close.

"His wallet was still on him," Rossi said.

"Hotch, he's been dead a week at most," Morgan said.

"Where was he?"

"His cabin."

There was a pause and Morgan felt an uneasiness to it.

"Gideon's cabin is on the other side of the state," Hotch said carefully.

"The woman at the truck stop told us this was his cabin," Morgan replied.

"What's the address?" Hotch asked.

Rossi gave it to him.

"Maybe he has two," Morgan suggested.

"Hold on," Hotch said and then his voice became more distant as he evidently spoke out to Garcia and asked her to check the address. There was a muffled reply and then, "That cabin belongs to Samuel Gary Simpson."

"Same initials as his alias," Rossi pointed out. "What about his other cabin?"

The sound of sirens could now be heard.

"Garcia," Hotch again spoke away from the phone. "Didn't you say Gideon's cabin changed hands?"

Again, a muffled response.

"I need you both here," Hotch's voice had taken a slight dip. "The cabin is owned by a Saul Sampson Grahams."

Xxx

Hotch flipped his phone shut and turned around to face the rest of the team. He moved further into the room, having opted to speak to Rossi and Morgan from the other end of the room in order to keep the conversation as private as possible whilst still being close enough to Garcia to keep her on hand.

Every fibre in his being wanted to race down to the parking lot, get into his car and get his agent back. But there was protocol. He had to brief Prentiss, JJ and Garcia. He had to debrief Rossi and Morgan. He had to come up with a strategy. He estimated that Rossi and Morgan would halve their ETA , but he was only somewhat satisfied that fifteen minutes, plus the hour it took to drive to Gideon's cabin, wouldn't make much of a difference.

"What was that about Hotch?" JJ asked.

Hotch looked around the table where JJ, Prentiss and Garcia sat, watching him with concern. How was he to tell them? He was having a hard time swallowing what he had just learnt himself.

The last few hours had been a nightmare and Hotch felt like banging his hands against his head. He had to keep his emotions in check – if not for himself, then for the rest of the team. He had to be short on the phone with Rossi and Morgan – although Rossi would have naturally seen right through him – because there was no time for emotion, no time for grief. At least no while Reid was still out there. They could grieve later. But it was getting harder to quell the storm that was raging in his head and chest.

"Rossi and Morgan found a second cabin that belongs to Gideon," Hotch started, suddenly now petrified that once he said it out loud, he would no longer be able to contain the loss he felt for his friend and old colleague.

"Gideon has two cabins?" JJ asked. "Why would he have two cabins?"

"No, no," Garcia interrupted. "He sold his cabin to Saul Sampson Grahams and the other one that Morgan and Rossi went to belongs to a Samuel Gary Simpson."

"Wait a minute," JJ stood from her chair, realisation on her face. "Gideon's credit card was under the name of Gordon Simon Stewards."

"They all have the same initials," Prentiss pointed out. "That can't be a coincidence."

"I don't think it is," Hotch said, wanting to explain his theory on the initials but becoming increasingly antsy that he hadn't told them yet.

"What did they find in the cabin, Hotch?" Prentiss asked – the perfect opening.

Hotch swallowed. "Gideon was in the cabin," he said and watched as their faces fell when they realised from his own face that nothing good was about to come out of his mouth. "He was murdered. Like John Usher, Ben Garrett and Rachel Sanders."

He watched their reactions closely: Prentiss' eyebrows shot up her forehead, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. JJ stood, a blank expression on her face that slowly crumbled into one of absolute despair and horror. Garcia's mouth was open and she was taking in breaths that suggested to Hotch that she was fighting the urge to cry though tears were already falling from her eyes.

"Agent Hotchner?" a voice from behind Hotch sounded uncertain and the Unit Chief turned around to face the intruder, fully prepared to reprimand him for interrupting such a sensitive moment.

Anderson stood by the door, looking very uncomfortable and nervous.

"What is it?" Hotch tried to make his voice hard and unforgiving, but instead it came out unemotional and stoic – like always.

"Section Chief Strauss wants to see you in her office."

Hotch could not believe his luck.

"I'm busy," he said simply, making to turn back to his team.

"Sir," Anderson sounded scared. "She insisted."

"It's okay Hotch," Prentiss, it seemed to Hotch, had gotten over the initial shock and was now back to doing what she did best: compartmentalising. "Go."

Xxx

The first thing Hotch thought when he saw Strauss through the big glass doors was _I really don't need this._

Strauss sat at her desk, bent over files and reading diligently. When Hotch knocked on the glass doors, she looked up, waved him in and took off her glasses.

"Ma'am," Hotch addressed her as he walked in to stand opposite her.

"Agent Hotchner," she stood up. "I've just gotten off the phone with Sherriff Lancome. Can you explain to me why two of your agents tried to leave a crime scene in the hands of two rookie cops?"

"I instructed them to come back to Quantico as soon as possible," Hotch replied, looking his superior straight in the eyes to show no fear. "They're needed here."

"They were needed there," Strauss said. "What was so urgent they could not properly search the scene? Have you located Agent Reid?"

Hotch shook his head. It appeared that Strauss did not know about Gideon yet. "I have a theory," he said.

"A theory?" Strauss did not look so impressed. "Aaron, I need more than a theory. You left West Virginia and Maryland – they've been on my back all day wanting to know what the hell is going on."

"Erin," Hotch sighed. He needed to tell her but the repercussions of that could either benefit him and the team or severely hinder their ability to help Reid. "Gideon was murdered."

Erin balked, her mouth opened and then closed. Finally, after a moment of indecision, she sat down, seeming to regain herself.

"That's where Rossi and Morgan were," Hotch explained. "Gideon had two cabins. He's been using aliases and I think the other cabin is where the UnSub is holding Reid."

"I have to take your team off this Aaron," Strauss said. "I can no longer justify your involvement to the Director anymore."

Hotch shook his head fiercely. "Erin, this is our case," he said adamantly. "Don't take this away from the team."

Strauss looked conflicted. "You have to cope with the death of one of your colleagues," she said softly. "And what will the consequences be if you walk into the murder of another."

"Reid is still alive," Hotch didn't feel so sure anymore, but he had to hope.

"And if he's not?"

Hotch didn't answer right away. He had refused that thought to stay in his mind for more than a second. Reid wasn't dead.

"We'll cope," he said simply.

Strauss stared at him, looking him up and down and Hotch waited with bated breath for her answer.

Xxx

**A/N: Whoa, I updated! I've been super busy! I'm writing a thesis so I've been slightly focusing on that. I wanted to let you guys know that I will be going overseas (yay!) at the end of the month and I'm hoping to have at least one more chapter up before then but if you don't hear from me in a while it's not because I've stopped writing, it's because I'm exploring other cultures! **

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed my last chapter. Judging by the responses I got, I should stop being a sook and get on with it LOL Thanks for lifting my spirits and I think I just needed a bit of love to get re-motivated. So thanks to tannerose5, People Person I'm Not, Guest, Annber03, Sophie, Marcallie, Alipeeps and aspiegiraffe.**

**In case anyone is wondering: everything will be answered eventually and everything will make sense if it doesn't yet. And sorry if you loved Gideon and not into death fics with major characters but I don't view him as a major character anymore and I kinda don't like him anyways :) Reid will reappear in the next couple of chapters. **

**Oh, who saw "Prisoners" and thought that this was like an extra long Criminal Minds episode? LOL **

**Thanks again! xx**


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